


The Age of Recovery

by PhoenixofFire177



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bilingual Characters, Body Horror, Cursing!, Delusions, Depressing Thoughts, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gay space husbands, Insanity, M/M, Possession, Self-Hatred, The Force, aight so theres a new language, also force healin, animalistic urges, art work is featured now!!!!!, but understandably so, corrupt politics, depression is a hell of a drug kiddos, feral jedi, fuck healers man, future family dynamics, horrid living conditions, its not a party unless theres angst, jedi can be in love AND be parents; fite me on this, jk theres never enough, life energy, like holy shit, lots of flies and mold, minor background character mentions trauma, murderous intent, nonbinary characters are best parents wdym, obi-wan is kind of an ass, planned execution, theres a baby child, theres some minor sickness, too bad youre getting it anyways, too much gay, ummmmm theres death now too oops, ummmmmm subtle mentions of apathy, unarmed murder, unhealthy treatment, want some amnesia, whelp where do i start??? uhhhh theres some cute shit™, who tf knows what im doing at this point, yoda rlly needs to intervene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixofFire177/pseuds/PhoenixofFire177
Summary: Medical Report #34-8Obi-Wan Kenobi. Human. Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn.Life Bonded at age 13.Dying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y'alllllllllll I wrote another thing. Ain't it grand? Anyways enjoy my star wars angst™

"Is your apprentice ill often?" 

That damning question. He could have answered truthfully… should have, in fact. But they all knew what that meant. If he admitted Obi-Wan’s all too familiar pattern, it meant giving up the boy. Code be damned, Qui-Gon was too selfish for that to happen. 

No, it was better to lie. Better to tell the healers that Obi-Wan had never collapsed like this; never spat up bile whilst shaking in his master’s arms, face a sickly hue of emerald. Maybe… just maybe he’d get to keep the only bright spot in his pathetic life. 

The odds of success were astronomical. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could see the fragility that haunted the padawan’s limbs. They all knew. They all knew and yet they continued to mock him. It was enough to drive any man insane. 

Deep within his mind, Qui-Gon felt the panic surge against the life bond. His padawan was crying out for him, practically reaching for him both physically and mentally. Opening his arms, the teen melted into his body and the Jedi master tried in vain to shelter his beloved from prying eyes. Somewhere, he vaguely registered the disapproving gaze of Councillor Windu raking over them. Qui-Gon only held tighter. 

It was folly to bring Obi-Wan here. They can’t help; they don’t understand. Healers only try to separate them. Qui-Gon already tried that. He tried retracting their bond, giving Obi-Wan a new master, and even moving his dear padawan to the Ag-Corps. Nothing worked. 

Something was plaguing Obi-Wan and if Qui-Gon was the only one who cared, then so be it. 

It was so jarringly clear. He’d defect from the order for this boy, if it came to it. If. Such a trivial concept, if. No, the question was not if but when. 

When would he have to flee? Would it be in the dead of night, only managing to grab the basic necessities before dragging the boy to some remote system? Or would it be during a dramatic stand-off in which one of them would be irreparably wounded? The worst part about it was that Qui-Gon didn’t even fear the outcome. 

He didn’t fear reprimand or punishment because Obi-Wan was worth it. He’d raze entire systems to keep that beautiful gaze trained on him and air in those weak lungs. He’d even sacrifice his own meaningless life if it meant curing this precious child. 

Healers thought him mad. Of course, maybe he was and this was his brain’s subconscious way of telling him he was indeed out of his mind but he didn’t care. If Obi-Wan was a hallucination, it was one he didn’t want medication for. 

So many tried to retrain him from interfering in the check-up but they never could. Obi-Wan would scream and struggle until Qui-Gon held the boy prone on his lap. Only then was the padawan content to allow the healers to continue the examination. 

Nothing out of the ordinary appeared on the scan. Not that he was surprised but it was still jilting to hear. Something was wrong with his love- he could feel it for Force sakes- but the healers assured him that nothing was found. He was powerless. 

There was something eerie about clean scans. Obviously the boy was in pain yet no one helped. They couldn’t. He spent most nights screaming to the healers to drop this charade and help, damnit. His padawan was sick and he was the only one in the entire galaxy that cared. 

They didn’t understand. They didn’t love their padawans the way he did. Obi-Wan wasn’t just some kid, like Mace kept saying. Obi-Wan was his reason to live. His one and only. His force-determined bondmate. No one else in that room had ever felt that undying tug on their gut, pulling them to someone, nor would they ever. And now they wanted Obi-Wan- his Obi-Wan to forget it and become… not himself. 

They wanted Obi-Wan to become a healer. 

Qui-Gon wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The very idea of Obi-Wan leaving his side was preposterous. They wouldn’t separate bonded knights, so what made this any different? There was no other place for the boy. 

Not even Master Yoda vouched for them. Yoda, the one who had fostered their bond in the first place, had withdrawn his support when they needed it most. And so, against his wishes, Obi-Wan Kenobi was apprenticed to a healer six systems away. 

 

Six months prior

Qui-Gon wasn’t sure of the last time he’d been more at peace. After Xanatos’s betrayal and his injury, well… he had been beginning to think that maybe it was time to stop training impressionable children. 

Yet here, in the temple gardens with a certain red-headed child on his lap, Qui-Gon felt whole. It wasn’t at all logical nor did it make any sense but here they were. 

Even in meditation, Obi-Wan could not keep still. His leg would shake or his eye would twitch and his master would send a gentle reprimand down the fledgling bond between them. In the boy’s defense, each time it happened he would send a genuine apology back to his master and try to control his unruly body. 

He was so young, so precious. From the moment Qui-Gon felt their Force signatures together, he knew instantly that he would do anything for this child. 

Master Yoda called for them every night, coaching the master and padawan on how to better adapt to the life bond they had been gifted. Although rare, the Living Force only gave the gift of eternal love to Jedi pairs it deemed worthy. For them to be chosen at such an early stage was nearly unheard of. 

However there was still a storm brewing beyond the horizon. Obi-Wan became horribly ill after extended periods of separation. The child’s body would tremble and convulse, forcing waves of agony off of him. Qui-Gon could do nothing but watch, helpless, as his bondmate suffered unimaginable spasms that raked against the bones in the child’s prone form. After such episodes, Obi-Wan would sit in silence for hours, grey-blue eyes cloudy and fixed on an impossible location in the sky. Sometimes the silence would continue for so long Qui-Gon felt he would go mad. 

Each time, Yoda would frown and shake his head. When he demanded to know why his former master looked so disproving, Qui-Gon was simply ignored. 

Something was not right. 

He was proven right not even three days after a particularly bad episode. 

Their mission had been simple; deal with trade negotiations on a peaceful planet somewhere near Naboo. Instead, it turned into an absolute disaster. The diplomats involved could not understand that Qui-Gon needed to be near his padawan and insisted on assigning them separate rooms. It had been fine for the first night. 

When Obi-Wan didn’t show up for the next morning’s negotiations, he realised all too quickly what had happened. For the first time in all his years as a Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn had to pass off a mission to someone else. 

Immediately following their return, Yoda guided master and apprentice to the Temple Healers. 

Perhaps they had some clue as to what was going on. 

 

Temple Of Edarr, Xosheogantu (The Miem'agh System)

Master Endikmel Nirec was the first to greet the arriving transport from Coruscant. The creche master’s robes billowed behind her as she briskly approached the pilot. At her side, a small grey and green droid frantically paced as though waiting for the supplies to unload was unbearable. In a way, it was. After all, OM-4Z’s function was to assist the inhabitants of the temple in every aspect. However, this ten’s shipment was different. Something seemed... off. 

Her suspicions were proven correct when Councilor Mace Windu stepped off of the ship carrying a small boy. Part of her hoped that this was simply the master’s padawan who had come for a check-in. Yet at the same time, a deeper part insisted that this boy was nothing of the sort. She approached the pair.

“Master Windu, what a pleasant surprise.” 

She greeted him with little to no warmth, not at all caring if she were reprimanded. Mace simply nodded at her. 

“Master Nirec, I’m sorry to disturb your routine but I seek an audience with Healer Xzat Zitun. Immediately.” 

The boy in his arms writhed uncomfortably, making a small noise of pain. Something within the Mon Calamari ached in sympathy. Bowing to the councilor, Endikmel gestured to OM-4Z and where the droid stood taking inventory. 

“Our droid will guide you to where Healer Zitun and his apprentice are currently. Until then, I have to insist that you submit that boy for an examination. His force signature is altered and it appears to be causing immense pain.” 

The Jedi master sighed and shook his head, expression guarded. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. You see, the audience is about the boy.” 

“And I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” 

Her gaze, deadly serious, burrowed into the councillor, sneaking past his shields. Faint sparks of tension drifted from their interlocked eyes, dancing in the stifling summer wind of Xosheogantu. Beyond them and past the ornate windows of the temple, the planet’s purple sun began to rise, tinting the sky a marvelous shade of indigo. The of the nearby fishing village stumbled out of their huts, delicate limbs rousing children, fetching nets. Distant bell tolls called many to work and others to worship, giving thanks to the Living Force for their lives. Yet within the Temple of Edarr, everything remained solitary. The universe itself held its breath to see who would emerge from this confrontation victorious. 

Seconds lapsed into minutes and minutes lapsed into-

“Master Nirec.”

A warning.

“What is the meaning of this?!” 

Distraction. 

Footsteps.

A familiar figure loomed in the entrance, a robed silhouette by its side. Enidkmel jumped, turning to face the voice that wielded authority like a bed slave wielded seductivity. 

Senior Healer Xzat Zitun and his apprentice Pas’uoth were examining the scene, both with a look of sheer disapproval lining their normally serene features. Disappointment was a given with the current situation. 

“Healer Zitun, I was just explaining to Master Windu here that he needs to take this padawan-”

Pas’uoth’s face contorted into an expression of utmost horror and disgust. Their master cringed as well, a knowing grimace skittering across his handsome face. This disturbance did not, unfortunately, go unnoticed by their visitor. Gathering his wits, Master Windu addressed the apprentice. 

“Is something wrong, padawan? Has something been done to upset you?” 

The teal skinned healer-to-be recoiled and took refuge behind their master. Xzat stepped forward, careful not to disturb his apprentice’s shelter, and shouldered himself so he was eye to eye with the Jedi master. 

“Leave Pas’uoth out of this. If you had the slightest bit of knowledge about their people, you would know not to refer to them as such.” 

His voice was cold and offered no hint of allowing the mistake to be forgiven. An unpleasant wave of anger washed over the assembled force-sensitives yet it was not from the Force itself. This was more primal, more… mortal. 

Anyone with a moment’s scan of the situation could offer an explanation. Since Healer Zitun was Falleen, he had a significant amount of control over his own pheromones. Unfortunately his normally endless patience was thin when it came to the temple’s only senior apprentice. Many who had made the same mistake had suffered worse at his hands. 

Eventually Master Windu remembered himself. 

“Of course. My apologies, Master Zitun. Pas’uoth.” 

The younger healer sniffed indignantly and refused to meet the Jedi’s eyes. Within Mace’s arms, the boy groaned. Ruby droplets trickled softly from his clenched jaw. They rolled off of that pale chin, shattering against the marble floor with an audible splash. Where they shattered, a small pool congregated, glittering in the morning light. Pas’uoth tugged gently on their master’s sleeve, hissing something inaudible to untrained ears. 

Whatever was said, Xzat nodded and gestured towards the pair. The young healer surged forward, taking the child into thin arms and ushering him off, down a perfumed corridor, soon flanked by a team of novices. Mace was left facing Xzat. The Falleen healer merely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. 

“One of our masters… made a mistake. Instead of training the boy, they corrupted him, forcing a life bond at the age of 13.” 

Another, higher pitched eyebrow raised. 

“Yes, I know a bond cannot be forced but he is still too young to agree to such an arrangement.” 

A pause. The normal hustle and bustle of the temple flooded their eardrums as it danced into the docking bay. 

An eternity passed before Xzat spoke. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing. For both your sake and the boy’s.”

Windu opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by a raised hand.

“As I understand it, you wish Pas’uoth and I to take him in. We will have no problem in doing such but you must understand that some things cannot be helped. They are the will of the Force and must be respected.” 

He paused. 

“What is our new apprentice’s name?”

At this, Mace relaxed, appeared fond even. 

“Kenobi. You will be training Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

Zitun nodded, turning away from his guest. The creche master still hovered unnecessarily in the entrance of the main healing hall. 

“Master Windu, Endikmel will show you out.” 

With that, he took off down the hall, only pausing to throw a quick command over his shoulder. 

“Oh, and OM-4Z, clean that mess up.” 

 

“He’s fading quickly.”

Not a statement, a question. 

“He’s fading quickly?” 

Confusion. Where was he? 

“Don’t use that! Here, try this.” 

A pinch near his wrist. Something heavy flowed in and warmth retreated. 

Cold. Why was he so cold?

Where ever he was, it was certainly too warm, too humid. It didn’t make sense. 

Then again, what did? Nothing made sense, not while the Force hid from him. Not when some part of his mind screamed with the lack of touch. Something… something was supposed to be there, he was sure of it. But the more he tried to access it, the thicker the clouding surrounding his memory became. 

He vaguely recalled a promise to a man. A man with icy aquamarine eyes and endless greying hair. They were… what were they? He knew it was important, that much was evident. There were so many rapidly fading memories about them; why were they fading? Years of companionship, slipping out of his reach; a perverse game of keep away. 

One force signature remained in his mind, forcing holes in shields and building newer ones, more powerful than even Qui- who was he talking about? Searching around, he desperately struggled to recall that name. It sounded important, as if it were the single thread keeping him from being engulfed alive by a nagging pain in his mind, He’d gotten used to it, over the course of his trip with Master Windu. Every mile, they got away from… something causing fireworks to explode behind his eyes and he cried out. Some place between Cor- a planet and wherever he was now, he found his eyes no longer opened. He lost consciousness but could still feel it. Could still feel the distance put between him and his mas- no one. 

But the pain did nothing to distract his grief. He knew it was a somber trip; he’d done something wrong. It had something to do with the blue-eyed man, he was sure. Another memory blocked off. 

Okay, that was enough. He focused all his energy on the intruding force in his mind, It wavered under his assault, causing some barriers to come crashing down, pulling holes in the wall. Agony spilled forth and he had paused, overwhelmed by the hurt. Someone called for… a healer? Hurried footsteps followed, as if someone had run the entire length of the building to respond. A second presence joined the first, restraining him and sending strength to the other. He struggled against it but could do nothing to shake the hold. Exhaustion swamped him and everything went white.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry im late but the traffic on the crippling depression and anxiety route was absolutely horrific. Anyways, new chapter today!

Light flooded his eyes and for a moment, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive. 

Everyone hovering above him were dressed in white, ready to greet his wandering soul in the Force, but the dull throbbing in his throat told him he was very much alive. Healers, he noted dully. 

Across from him, two knights lifted another white-clothed figure onto a cushion. Faint sounds of distress came from the more feminine of the two. A hand flashed in front of him, gauging his condition. He jerked back from the intrusion, causing a growl of displeasure to be pulled from the healer. 

“Stop your squirming. I know I’m not the one you want to see but Pas’uoth isn’t awake to greet you quite yet.” 

The Twi’lek healer groused, eyes narrowed in concentration. 

Obi-Wan paused for a second, confused. He didn’t know anyone named Pas’uoth , bad memory or no. Yet... something about it seemed familiar. 

Beyond the Twi’lek healer, he could barely make out a group of older healers. They were not in the room with the others; instead they opted to hover in the background. Judging from their dress, force signatures, and overall agitation, they were in charge of the white-swathed individuals. 

However, one of them was directly next to the unconscious healer. He spoke softly to the younger, eyes gentle and affectionate. With a pang, Obi-Wan realised how alone he was. His master was like that… where was his master? Surely they weren’t separated; the Council promised- what did they promise? 

Slipping deeper into his thoughts, he began to search through his memory. He didn’t get very far though. Gently pressing along one shield, his suspicions were proven right. A large empty void had replaced his memories. 

Confused, he tried to grope his way through it, causing the colours to swirl before his eyes. 

“Hey, he’s trying to put himself under again! Descaid, Ximami, give me some help here!” 

The two healers who had been monitoring the unconscious one stood rapidly and raced to either side of him. One entered his mind and roughly jerked him away from the void. The other grabbed his wrist and stuck some sort of tube onto a needle before driving it into his veins. 

Gradually his vision stabilized and it no longer appeared to him that the world was melting under the three suns shining in through the large window. As the mixture within the tube dripped through his system, Obi-Wan was vaguely aware of the unconscious healer waking up and joining their peers. The older male, Falleen from the looks of him, backed off and only watched, calculatingly. It only registered afterwards that he was watching Obi-Wan. 

When he finally got a good look at the fourth healer, he was surprised. They were an unfamiliar species, with large silvery eyes and dark violet mandalas etched into their cerulean skin. Dark black hair, swept up into a neat bun-like structure, nestled around unusually small ears. All of these observations were common with humanoid species of life but the truly surprising thing was their force signature. Unlike others he had felt, theirs was strong, almost unnaturally so. It called to him, radiating a gentle but respectable authority. Yet the strangest part was how utterly comforting it was. 

Signatures were not meant to provide comfort to anyone outside of any bond shared between Jedi. Masters and padawans would use them to provide information on their state of mind when the mental link was dampened. Creche masters would bond similarly with young initiates and provide the figure of authority that all younglings desire to imprint on. But for a healer to provide such a home-like sensation? The very idea was unheard of, unless… 

Of course. 

This strange healer wished to train him. That would explain the lack of a training bond that he knew he’d entered the temple with. Which, of course, angered him. Indisposed or not, they had no right to go poking around in his head. For the first time since waking, Obi-Wan felt sick. Just thinking about everything that must’ve been done to him made his stomach churn and he felt violated. 

This was exactly why he hated healers. 

The silver-eyed healer made contact with him, their hand gently pressing against his wrist, as if confirming a pulse. 

“I think he’s stable, Aocopcrero. Well done, keeping him sedated while I was otherwise occupied.” 

The Twi’lek healer, Aocopcrero apparently, blushed and sheepishly smiled.

“It was your master’s idea. I only put it into action.” 

“Even still, old friend. You’ve saved our patient and that’s all that matters.” 

A human male, dark skinned with even darker eyes, nodded approvingly from the doorway. 

“They’re right, you know. You did well, uzze’arsuhze’a.” 

Well, wasn’t that a strange term of endearment? Obi-Wan had read that certain species had differing ways of expressing praise but that word didn’t originate from any of the traditional Twi’lek dialects nor did it stem from any language- human or otherwise- he’d ever heard of. From the way it was stressed and thrown out so casually, he had to assume it was some sort of pet name. There was nothing else it could be, as far as he knew. 

Whatever it meant, Aocopcrero didn’t seem convinced. Her apparent friend placed a lithe blue hand on her shoulder. 

“Nuse’as Shapas is correct, my friend. Gi asze’a guided you well.” 

Certainly Obi-Was must still be half asleep. There was no other way to explain the gaps in the conversation. At this point, he wasn’t even sure they were using a language known to the Jedi Order or any other system for that matter. 

Two other young-looking healers nodded as well. One was very clearly human and the other shared striking similarities with the Falleen male from earlier so he assumed that she was Falleen as well. These must be the other two mentioned earlier: Descaid and Ximami. Well that was one mystery solved. Now the remaining questions. 

Where was he and why was he here? There was no way his master agreed to this impromptu trip and even if his master did (who was that again?), surely he had duties to return to. Right? 

Of course, that was assuming that his master hadn’t purposely sent him here, which is what the absence of a training bond would imply. How badly had he messed up to get sent here, of all places? It must’ve been something terrible or he wouldn’t have been cast out of the Jedi Order. He wanted to be trained as a knight, not as a healer. No way that decision was made with a motive to reward. 

This was a punishment. 

Struggling against the drugs in his system, Obi-Wan sat up to better gauge his surroundings. The building he was laying in was made of an ethereal cream stone. It was a sort of rotunda, with the very centre cut away and filled with delicate blue pin-stripped vines. The walls were also in various stages of crumbling away, revealing a pristine landscape set against the midmorning sky. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Beautiful, is it not? My master swears this view is the best medicine we can offer.” 

The Falleen girl, Ximami, smiled at him before gesturing to the small boats decorating the water below them. 

“The locals here are really nice, too. When you’re feeling better, they’ll take you out on the water if you’d like.” 

He was briefly tempted to smile back but the thought of being stuck here longer than necessary (not to mention with overexposure to water) sent chills down his spine, and he responded icily.

“I’d rather not be here longer than necessary. I’m sure they need me back at my temple.”

Wherever that was… 

The young healer recoiled and looked back at the assembled group of more seasoned healers as if to say ‘see? He’s just bad tempered and a burden.’ 

Obi-Wan honestly had no idea where that last part came from and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Not while these healers continued to whisper about him and shake their heads disapprovingly. To Hell with it. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why am I here, really? It wasn’t for rare treatment because the temple back home could do the same process and offer just as much condescending chatter.” 

One of the older healers sniffed indignantly and Obi-Wan felt their presence retreat, filled with seething anger (or was that annoyance?). Ximami followed hurriedly, almost tripping over her robes while trying to keep pace. Before leaving, she shot a glare at Obi-Wan. Something told him he wouldn’t have many friends here for the duration of his stay. 

Two of the remaining padawans exchanged fearful looks with both each other and their respective masters. The remaining group stood awkwardly, none quite sure how to answer the question hanging in the air. Only Pas’uoth and the older Falleen seemed unaffected. Together, they began the relatively simple task of clearing the other healers out. 

“Descaid, Aocopocrero… I won’t be making rounds today so would you mind checking up on Knight Bali and her baby?” 

They didn’t even bother checking for permission before exiting the rotunda at a brisk pace. Now only Pas’uoth remained in the room with him and the three masters hovered at the door. Yet the pair seemed unsatisfied with this and the Falleen master turned to address his companions. 

“Marsil, go supervise the latest shipment and ensure the packaging is done properly. Kol, Master Nafan had physical therapy and mental therapy scheduled for today. He had requested you specifically.” 

Much like the apprentices before them, the two quickly dispersed, leaving only Pas’uoth and the older male. Obi-Wan fidgeted nervously with the hem of his tunic, unsure of what this meant. 

“Obi-Wan…” 

He acknowledged the gentle prodding but said nothing until the master-padawan team sat on either side of him. 

“Why am I here? Is this some sort of test?” 

He could feel the tension when the two locked eyes, obviously debating how to break the bad news to him. He was completely prepared for the brutal delivery but was caught off guard when a deep, caramel-rich voice changed the subject entirely. 

“What do you know of predetermined fates?” 

Looking between their intense gazes, a blur of silver and cloudy amber, he shrugged.

“Not much. Teachers didn’t spend much time on it.” 

“Well, the Force, in all its infinite wisdom, can sense the destiny of everyone. Nothing you do is out of reach and is all part of a larger plan. Some of us are meant to be knights, some of us meant to be farmers, and some are meant to be healers. It just so happens that your destiny was to train as more than one.” 

Pas’uoth nudged him comfortingly. 

“You were meant to train with us, Obi-Wan. This is your destiny and the Force doesn’t make mistakes.” 

He felt sick to his stomach and couldn’t quite bring himself to respond. That couldn’t be right… The Force wasn’t perfect; it had to make mistakes at some point because surely he wasn’t here for any reason other than for a punishment. Nothing in his prior teachings had ever suggested that the Force intervened as heavy-handed as this pair suggested. Something was certainly off and he was not about to sit around and let it happen. If that meant pretending to go along with whatever these strange healers had in mind, so be it. 

But he was going to get out of here, no matter what. He’d get back to his master and find some answers. 

No matter what it took.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fuck yall sorry im late. but i got some good news- there'll be art accompanying this story soon!

Three months, six days, 15 hours, 28 minutes and 55 seconds. 

 

That’s how long it had been since Qui-Gon Jinn was separated from the love of his life. 

 

That’s how long he’s had to deal with snide comments and rude whispers following him while heading to and from his therapy sessions. 

 

That’s how long it’s been since the sheer void in his mind started conjuring delusions everywhere he turned. 

 

Not that he was counting or anything. 

 

No, of course he wasn’t counting. If he were, it would surely be a sign of either impending or already present madness and he was just the epitome of mental stability, right healer? 

 

Of fucking course he was counting. 

 

How could any being with half a functioning brain think he would do anything else? With Obi-Wan gone, he had nothing better to do; no reason to go on living. 

 

Some Jedi master he turned out to be. 

 

At least, that was what everyone in the temple said. Even his old friends joined in, using his vulnerable state as the number one topic of conversation. Apparently even Jedi are desperate for a good scandal. 

 

Or maybe they weren’t. 

Maybe those conversations were just in his head and he had just used his friends to project the thoughts coming from that damnable void in his head. They cackled and taunted, constantly reminding Qui-Gon how alone he was and how powerless he had been to prevent Obi-Wan’s departure. 

 

He hadn’t even gotten to say good-bye. 

 

Mace had waited until he was forced to sleep instead of keeping watch over the boy and took the only brightness in Qui-Gon’s life to a system so remote, their bond was broken, a feat that shouldn’t have even been possible given the abilities of the Living  Force. 

 

And contrary to what the healers may say, it wasn’t just because his lover was missing. Bonded or not, Obi-Wan was still his padawan and it wasn’t right to just separate a padawan learner from their master before they completed their trials. His beautiful padawan could be injured or worse, killed. The dissolution of their bond only served to worry him more. 

Yet none of this mattered in comparison to how the council and the healers treated him. 

 

They honestly expected him to take another padawan and move on. They couldn’t grasp that it just wasn’t going to happen and that Qui-Gon was done with their rules. He had been for awhile, if he were honest with himself. 

 

Yet every morning, without fail, Mace escorted him to the creche as if by some extreme twist of fate he’d choose another apprentice. He’d seen children of every age, gender, and species yet none could fill the hole in his mind. And in the end, that’s all having a padawan would do for him according to the crackpot healers who had nothing better to do than make suggestions about his personal life. Padawans weren’t supposed to provide a profound connection and if they did, it was the result of corrupted teachings. 

 

So why try so hard to get him back out there? It wasn’t as if the Order didn’t have enough problems on their plate without a fourth unruly apprentice tainted by Qui-Gon Jinn. 

 

He tried asking, once. 

 

Big mistake. 

 

His question was shrugged off and he was ‘gently prompted’ to return to his room, effectively shutting down any and all conversation. A young nurse escorted him to the rooms he once shared with Obi-Wan and the doors locked from the outside after her departure. 

 

He was more or less a prisoner in his own home- mentally and physically. 

 

Those hours he spent cooped up inside the musty rooms, Qui-Gon had too much time to think. 

 

Everywhere he looked, traces of his young lover remained.  Obi-Wan’s cloak hanging properly from the hook by the door; the data pad carelessly tossed aside on the sofa; the faint scent of the scented soap Bant gifted his darling after her last mission. They hung around the undisturbed apartment, wreathing his senses. 

__

It was enough to drive anyone mad. 

 

Everywhere he looked, his lover’s face taunted him. Everything he heard boasted his beloved padawan’s voice. Even the air itself would join in the perverse game, occasionally sending wisps of that cloyingly sweet, familiar scent his way. 

 

He began to see things around month six. 

 

It started off small at first; a flap of robe on his right side from the corner of his eye. Of course, it was merely his own but that didn’t stop his traitorous heart from leaping into the air out of joy. When he came to his senses, his heart plummeted twenty feet from the highest spire of the jagged palace now housing his mind. 

Each delusion was heart wrenchingly agonizing and Qui-Gon couldn’t bear to be around his peers. Someone would say something, doing something, or even look at him and everything would fall apart. 

 

He sat, hands tangled in matted hair, eyes clouded over with grief (or was it madness?) and reached into the swirling, mangled abyss of his blocked off bond. Poisoned memories and false images filled the room yet no living soul aside from him could make heads or tails of it. 

 

Pus and blood dripped delicately from beautiful crescents in a perfect line along his chest. An already half-filled saucer sat between his legs, scabs and other fluids pooling in a sick lake of crimson. 

 

His cloak was torn beyond recognition and his robes were ragged and threadbare. How long had it been since he’d worn fresh clothes? He lost count after… Force, he didn’t even know how much time had passed. 

 

Did he even want to? 

 

Groaning, he slammed his head against the wall. This wasn’t doing him any good. What was the point of all this? 

 

Maps cluttered every available surface and all of them bore signs of being repeatedly shoved off of their perches and then painstakingly replaced. All, that is, except one. It was straight-up cast aside with a half-broken seal prevent the contents from being exposed, as if someone gave up opening it halfway through the task. 

 

The kitchen stank of rotting food and insectoids buzzed in a lacklustre manner. Canisters of Force-knows-what had been broken open and now scattered their contents across the floor. 

 

The master bedroom’s door was jammed open by the mattress and the wall behind where the bed used to be was taken over by endless notes. The author didn’t even bother with paper, instead choosing to scrawl cryptic notes directly on the cool metal. 

 

Qui-Gon Jinn hadn’t been seen outside of his rooms in almost two years. 

 

Two goddamn years. 

 

He searched tirelessly for two years only to come up empty handed. 

 

At this point, he didn’t even want to be reunited out of love. He wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi back because everyone said it couldn’t be done. 

 

He growled at no one in particular. 

 

It could be done. 

 

He’d do it. 

 

His brain, feral as it may be, remained focused on his mission. It was the only thing keeping him going at this point. 

 

Nothing would-

 

Wait. 

 

A faint caress brushed against the bond. Delicate and weak, but it was there. 

 

His head perked up and his whole body tensed in concentration. His mind tracked the weak contact until it became a steady tug. 

 

_ Mine. _

 

The touch pulled away, confused and faintly disgusted by the animalistic display of possession. 

 

Yes. 

 

Good.

 

He could work with this. He chased the touch further until he got an image of where his bondmate was. 

 

Bright clothing, sparkling water, and two figures smiling warmly at what could only be Obi-Wan. The air around them was warm with affection but not the type he was familiar with. 

 

This one was more… familial. 

 

No matter. He found his lover after all this time and no one was going to keep them apart. 

 

His eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth in a snarl. 

 

_ No one.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets catch up with our boi obi-wan next


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fourth chapter!!! and we get some more interactions between characters! AND WE GET THE FIRST ART!! Thanks to Ravenssama for the beautiful fan art!

He gazed out across the vast ocean, seeing only stars. He was alone, finally, and the sensation itself was repulsive and unfamiliar. 

 

Those cold, unblinking stars taunted him, teased him with what he couldn’t have. Fuck those frigid bodies that only served to remind him of that aching loneliness that threatened to consume everything he was. He hadn’t been by himself since childhood. 

 

After being selected as a padawan, he was constantly under the gentle, vigilant eye of his master. Now… now he stood in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who had no comprehension of the anxiety that their separation entailed. Here he was, a masterless padawan.

 

Wasn’t that one for the books? 

 

What kind of padawan has to be forcibly removed from their master’s care? Surely one that was never meant to become a knight in the first place… right? Right?

 

And now here he was, faced with a destiny he could only label as abhorrent. Staying here, on this water-infested, overheated chunk of rock disgusted him in ways only the worst evils of galaxy did.

 

Earlier that morning, he was semi-optimistic about this change. The temple (well, at least what little of it he’d seen) was stunning and his talk with Pas’uoth and Master Xzat certainly left him with a willingness to at least hear them out about staying. 

 

How wrong he’d been. 

 

After his talk with the master-apprentice duo, Pas’uoth led him to the residence hall, solely inhabited by patients. In order to reach this wing, Obi-Wan was guided through the treatment room into a central rotunda. 

 

Three hallways jutted off from the dome, one of which he had just arrived from. The fourth hallway wasn’t a hallway at all, but rather an entrance. Peering out of the cloth coverings hanging from the arching doorway revealed a seemingly endless staircase. Ornate statues dotted the path, describing the history of the planet’s temple. Whatever lay beyond was obscured by vibrant flora that clustered neatly around the path. 

 

The hallway directly across from the entrance was also covered in transparent cloth. It’s seafoam colour tinted whatever lay beyond it an enticing shade of emerald. Voices carried from this hallway, leading to what Obi-Wan could only assume was a garden, judging from the foliage jutting enticingly from the end. When he looked to his guide for an explanation, they shrugged and only offered a basic answer: healer’s wing. 

 

They nudged him beyond the doorway and Obi-Wan then turned his attention to the centre of the rotunda. Pillars surrounded a moat of water, all a pale violet from the morning light streaming in from the four holes in the ceiling. Each sun of the planet had its own window yet one remained empty. Before he could ask why that gap remained, his eyes fixed upon the pedestal the moat surrounded. A large kyber crystal stood proudly in the middle, shining its radiance along the walls by using the solar energy. The Force was strong here, its presence nearly visible along with the light. 

 

It was nearly crippling, being in the presence of all that pure life energy. His knees locked and his hands began to shake. His eyes desperately sought out his master- no,  _ anyone  _ who could ease the discomfort. He found himself silently begging Pas’uoth to react but the young healer seemed unaffected by the energy. 

 

Then he felt  _ it _ . The crystal brushed against his mind and he jolted forwards, knees making contact with the marble floor. His palms began to sweat and still his guide remained motionless. 

 

Bile crawled up his throat and still nothing. 

 

Sweat beaded on his brow.

 

“P-pas’uoth, please.” 

 

The words tasted like metal leaving his mouth. His body tensed and his vision blurred. 

 

‘This is it; this is how I die.’

 

Just before his sight gave way, Pas’uoth pulled him to his feet and dragged him into the hallway directly across from the treatment wing. His breath ran ragged yet his companion didn’t seem to notice.

 

They adopted a brisk pace, forcing Obi-Wan to jog in an attempt to keep pace.  __

 

It was awhile before either spoke. 

 

“What… what the fuck was that?!” 

 

He finally demanded, tight-lipped and visibly vexed. 

 

Silver eyes, somewhat dulled and far away, locked with flinty green before an awestruck response was given. 

 

“Obi-Wan… what you felt was life itself!” 

 

He tried to process what was said. It wasn’t logically possible. Inanimate objects couldn’t have a presence in one’s mind and what he felt was certainly not life. It was awe inspiring, sure, but there was something more to that. There had to be. 

 

Before he could ask any further though, Pas’uoth gestured to a room jutting off from the main corridor. 

 

“This one is yours.” 

 

He brushed them aside to gaze into the room. 

 

Like the healing dome, the walls were inhabited by strange blue pinstriped vines and delicate iridescent flowers. A sleeping pallet had been shoved into a corner and set up for use. Open windows provided light yet also had the unintended side effect of letting in the local fauna. Insectoid creatures buzzed lazily near the cloth-draped doorway Obi-Wan could only assume led to the ‘fresher. A net hung above the bed, spread aside in case anyone wished to nap. The net could be pulled closed to prevent any undesired guests (like creatures who belonged anywhere but in one’s bed) from entering. The main window offered the room’s inhabitant a view of the temple gardens and a broad balcony jutting from further down the corridor. 

 

It was nothing special but he felt strangely at ease in the room, almost as if his body was telling him this was home. An impossible assumption, but he had no other solution. 

 

Pas’uoth smiled at him before guiding him inside. 

“You are free to come and go from your room as you wish, provided no healer in the temple deems you unfit for activity. The gardens are open to you and all other patients along with the balcony, mountain trails, therapy pools, and dining room. The sanctuary, if you are cleared for meditation, is located in the centre hall and you must have a healer with you if you attend. Guided meditation sessions are every few cycles and you can sign up with your assigned healer. Combat training is under no circumstances to continue and you will find that, to avoid encouraging such behaviour, we do not have a training salle in the temple. You are here for recovery and we would appreciate it if you did not prolong your stay-”

 

They paused for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. 

 

“What I mean is, you would not wish to sabotage your recovery as that would hinder your future with us.” 

 

Another pause, this time more awkward and almost pained. 

 

“This will not be easy, Obi-Wan. I wish I could say that the future was clear for you, but…” 

 

He stiffened and faced the blue-skinned healer. 

 

“I quite understand, thank you very much. However, you don’t need to worry about my future. I’m  _ going  _ to be a Jedi knight, despite what you and your master believe.” 

 

Even to him, he sounded petulant- like a child denied sweets. It appeared to strike something within the healer and they blinked sympathetically at him. 

 

“If that’s what you say, Obi-Wan, then that’s what we’ll help you work towards.” 

 

Their words were gentle and soothing yet only proved to anger him more. 

 

Blatant annoyance blanketed the room and Pas’uoth backpedaled out of the room. Their eyes were wide with some semblance of fear. He felt a tinge of guilt but crushed it down until they walked away from the doorway. 

 

Completely drained, he sank down onto the sleeping pallet and felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. For the first time in thirteen years, Obi-Wan Kenobi allowed himself to cry. Here he was, on some foreign planet, completely abandoned by everyone he loved. 

 

Yes, loved. He knew it was against the code and figured it would be as easy to obey as all the other requirements yet… he couldn’t. How do you tell your heart to stop beating for another? How do you pull yourself together after someone else breaks you apart and remakes you to become part of them? How… ?

You don’t, of course. 

 

You let your heart keep on beating irregularly and you delight in the new being you and someone else have created. Love is all-consuming and even Jedi are completely helpless to its unforgiving grip. 

 

Once love takes you for its own, you do not get free. 

 

You find yourself not even wanting to. 

 

Your thoughts of leaving drown in a never ceasing flood of tender words and whispered confessions. 

 

You dream of moonlit meetings and stolen kisses. 

 

Love takes you over; invades your very being and rebuilds however it wishes. 

 

And now, love was the very reason he cried. 

 

Love was the reason anyone in this temple cried. 

 

Sometime during his sobbing, he felt a gentle caress against his mind. Its touch was feather-light and carried the same warmth and understanding a mother would for her offspring. His wrought nerves forced him to cling to the presence and it soothed him into a dreamless slumber. 

 

Part of him hoped he’d never awaken. 

  
  
  
  


When he awoke, the temple was lit with inviting flames and the three suns glowed behind him.

 

Voices could be heard in the garden, all unfamiliar. They blended together seamlessly and there was no way of telling how many others were out. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Obi-Wan stumbled from the pallet and gripped the window sill, eyes searching for a familiar face. Outside, Pas’uoth and the other younger healers oversaw a group of four patients. 

 

Two were walking together, seemingly fit to just bask in each other’s company. Another sat on a meditation mat, clearly focused on clearing their mind. The fourth was chatting with one of the apprentices, hefting a small bundle in their arms.

 

The atmosphere was one of safety and comfort, and Obi-Wan soon found himself standing on the balcony observing the group. With his improved view, he could see their faces more clearly. The one meditating was older, greying, and clearly pained by his joints. The one with the bundle he recognised as a woman with her baby and smiled despite himself. The couple walking were both young males and clearly very close. 

 

He didn’t belong here. 

 

Once again, loneliness jabbed at his side and he felt those goddamn tears threatening to spill forth again. 

 

What good was he to his master here? Was it because he broke the code? Was he honestly that fucking stupid that he couldn’t put his duty ahead of his affection-

 

“Enough projecting, young man. You’ll agitate the entire temple at this rate.” 

 

Master Zitun’s voice startled him from the internalization of his feelings and Obi-Wan whipped around to face the Falleen healer. 

 

“Master Zitun, I didn’t realise anyone could hear my thoughts…” 

 

The master chuckled deeply and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“I didn’t think you  _ wanted  _ us to hear you. However, in a small temple, gossip travels rather quickly.” 

 

Is that really all he was? Gossip? No wonder he didn’t fit-

 

“Stop that.” 

 

Xzat chastised, using the Force to dispose of the oncoming storm of negativity within Obi-Wan’s mind. Obi-Wan couldn’t even find it within himself to be indignant. 

 

With his mind clear, he could finally focus on something other than his glaring inadequacies. Turning to thank the healer, Obi-Wan was struck by how easily Master Zitun could calm him. 

 

The Falleen man shook his head before the boy could speak. 

 

“No need to thank someone for performing their lot in life, Obi-Wan. Remember that while you are here. 

 

There was a pause.

“However, I must admit I did not seek you out only because of your restless thoughts. Pas’uoth tells me you two had a disagreement earlier. They did not explain so I’m afraid I must request you tell me exactly what has my dear apprentice so stricken.” 

 

Oh. Well this would certainly be awkward. How does one explain to a master that you quarrelled with their apprentice simply because you wanted to? 

 

“Well, Master Zitun, your padawan and I-”

 

“Do not ever use that word.” 

Xzat’s smooth voice hardened and despite staying level, his anger was evident. 

 

“Here on  Xosheogantu, this temple was built amongst a species of people known as the Apani. They have inhabited this planet long before you or I were even thought of and it is their language that decorates this temple. The Apani language existed long before the Order even labeled their apprentices and we, at this temple, respect and use their tongue. Padawan, to them, is a word referring to one’s young bed slave. Please refrain from using the word while you reside here and especially refrain from referring to my apprentice as such. It dishonours both them and their people and I refuse to allow such offensive behaviour in my temple. Do I make myself clear?” 

 

Obi-Wan, eyes wide, nodded slightly. Had he any idea that the term was offensive, he’d have phrased his explanation better. 

 

The Falleen master sighed and allowed his voice to return to its usual timbre. 

 

“Hopefully that is all the misunderstanding was and I will not have future conflict on my hands.” 

 

Obi-Wan knew a way out when he heard one and nodded once again.

 

“Yes, Master Zitun. It won’t happen again.” 

 

The healer smiled wanly and gestured in the direction of the gardens. 

 

“I’m sure it won’t. Now run along and meet the rest of the temple. They’re dying to finally see you, rather than feel your thoughts.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more to come soon


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp im late again with an update so im sorry
> 
> but i hope this makes up for it
> 
> (it probably wont)

“I don’t think you understand the severity of this situation, Master Windu. Whatever it is the council decided to do about the situation with his padawan, it’s not working.” 

The frantic healer insisted, eyes bloodshot and robes half secured around his waist. 

“I just delivered Qui-Gon’s medication and got attacked by him! I don’t care what you say; that is not progress!” 

Murmurs filled the Council’s chamber as the testimony was given, concerned glances shared all around between members. The healer did have a point; if Qui-Gon Jinn had gone feral, then perhaps sending the boy away had been folly on their part. Only Mace Windu remained remotely unaffected, a stern grimace still stenciled onto his face. 

“Do you dare challenge the Council’s authority?” 

The unspoken my authority resonated between them, birthing tension so astronomically thick that one wrong move could cause an all-out brawl. 

“O-of course not, Master Windu. I only meant that sending the boy away, to an uncharted system, no less, maybe wasn’t the best option for dealing with this. After all, they were hardly the first bonded pair at this temple.”

Windu’s expression was unreadable as he gracefully rose from his seat and approached the healer. His fists, hidden away in his robes, clenched instinctively as he turned to face his peers. 

“No,” he conceded. “They were not the first bonded pair in this temple’s history. However, the Jedi Order is no longer the loosely organised band of warriors and heathens it once was. We have rules and a code to live by. That code is what separates us from our mortal enemies- The Sith.” 

He paused momentarily, gleefully noting how the room was swayed by his words. Shaak Ti and Depa Billaba exchanged troubled glances, Plo Koon made a noise of disgust, and even Ki-Adi-Mundi seemed to agree with his points. Not that he thought anything else would happen. After so many years on the council, Mace knew his audience and exactly how to get to them. Fighting a smirk, he began again. 

“Qui-Gon knew our rules and why exactly they were set in place. We know he knew because Master Yoda and I arranged for Obi-Wan to placed in his care ourselves and conducted an extensive interview. Despite his assurances that Obi-Wan would remain safe and well-taught in his care, we all knew there would be some sort of bump in the road. As much as it pains me to admit it, for he was my closest friend, I knew we would be having a similar conversation to this from the first moment I saw Master Jinn and the boy interact. They’d known each other for less than a ten and already, Qui-Gon regarded the boy with a look of fondness one only reserves for a close friend.”

More hushed conversations erupted among the council and he gloated silently on how most were already nodding their heads in agreement. Only Yoda remained silent, eyes shut tightly with only one ear cocked in their direct to show that yes, he was still engaged. The healer glanced desperately around the room, searching for someone to make his case out to. None of the council members even spared him a second thought. By the time this session was over, Mace was certain they’d have this man locked up for treason. 

A pity, considering his skill with force healing, but treason would not be tolerated in the Order. Not now and not ever. 

“Well, Mace, what do you propose we do about this?” 

Master Yaddle asked, her eyes narrowed as if testing him.

Ten pairs of eyes fixed on him and he inwardly congratulated himself on this stroke of good luck. Mace hadn’t expected to get this far today. Perhaps he could solve both problems at once, in one fell swoop. 

“I propose we deal with both Master Jinn and this healer. Since he’s so concerned with Master Jinn’s health, perhaps we assign them quarters together.” 

The healer paled and his eyes grew wide. 

“N-no, Master Windu, you can’t- I can’t- He’s gone feral! It’d be impossible-”

“So the truth comes out, does it? You come here, in front of the Council, declaring yourself concerned with the condition of a fellow Jedi but balk at the notion of solving the situation yourself? Perhaps we should ignore the matter altogether-”

“No!” 

The healer cut him off, hands flapping around as if to express his helplessness in the matter. 

“For Force sakes, I’ll do it!” 

“Excellent. I expect bi-weekly updates via holonet but aside from that, you will be unassisted. You are dismissed.” 

Mace turned his back on the man and began the trek back to his seat. Rejoining his peers, he watched as the stricken healer exited the chamber and allowed himself a small chuckle. 

Master Yoda’s ear flicked in his direction but he was too distracted to notice. 

That healer would be dead by tomorrow morning. 

 

Standing in front of the opened door, Healer Icaro felt the darkened tendrils of the Force clawing at his skin. They hooked into his wrists and ankles, pulling, yanking him through the doorway. His bare neck was scratched at in passing before two other arms embedded themselves in his shoulders. Faint patches of red stained his robes and all he could think was ‘this is it; this is how I die’. 

Deep growls came from within the depths of shadows and Icaro could’ve sworn he saw a pair of solid yellow eyes flash in the darkness. They were fixed directly on his fluttering adam’s apple. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple and hit the floor with a quiet splash. 

A cloud of flies rose from the floor, angry and disturbed by the addition of foreign moisture to their resting place. Beneath them lay a neatly cleaned pile of bones, any and all tissue systematically stripped away by an inhuman creature. 

Mold climbed up the walls, giving the recycled air an even mustier taste and transforming it into a soul-sucking poison instead of the life-giving substance it truly was. 

Further entry to the room was inhibited by the toppled sofa, providing a barrier between any incoming guests and the beast within. 

That beast was none other than Qui-Gon Jinn himself. Except… each passing day he resembled less and less of a man. His hair was a matted mess of blood and sweat; his eyes ethereal and a sickly shade of greenish-yellow. His spine was clearly visible to the point that whenever he came close enough, each and every vertebrae could be counted. 

A pile of soiled fabric served as the man’s bed and upon closer inspection were discovered to be his robes. A mixture of vomit and infection coated them, probably what gave his body its sickly pallor. 

His face was sunken so much that his cheeks had withered away to absolutely nothing. Where once full lips had occupied was now inhabited by harshly bitten and chapped pieces of flesh. 

Nothing about him even remotely hinted that this sorry shell of a body could once perform katas with immeasurable grace. Nothing gave away his status as a weathered and respected Jedi master. 

All Icaro could do was stare at the coiled figure, muscles tense and eyes wary. Qui-Gon was no longer human. The loss of his bondmate had reverted him to only primal instincts and his brain spiralled down into the depths of madness. He was, at his very core, feral. 

Like an escaped wild dog, Icaro had to be careful for fear of getting bit. Gingerly, he began to pick his away across the room to approach the Jedi master. Qui-Gon let out a warning growl and Icaro put his hands up in a soothing gesture. 

“Master Jinn, please. I’m here to help. You’re very sick and I need to get you well again if you ever want to see Obi-Wan again.” 

As soon as he mentioned the boy, Qui-Gon perked up and the growling ceased. Icaro sighed and offered a tight-lipped smile. 

“That’s right, I’m here to get you back to Obi-Wan. You do want to see your padawan again, right?” 

A wary nod. 

Icaro inched closer and placed a hand on the master’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. In a few days, I’ll send word to Master Windu to retrieve him from the healer’s temple.”

Yellow eyes flashed with flecks of red and before Icaro could react, Qui-Gon’s teeth were at his throat, digging into the jugular. 

He tore away at the first layer, spitting out flimsy pieces of vein and skin until the second and third veins were exposed to the open air. 

Fresh meat lay on the carpet, enticing maggots with the prospect of much needed food. The white grubs wriggled around his face, obscuring his view of the wall. What he could see was scribbled with directions to every temple known to the Order. 

His chest was constricted by Qui-Gon’s weight. The beast still hovered over him, still tearing out the contents of his neck. With each tear, Icaro screamed louder. His limbs flailed wildly to remove his opponent. Yet it only served to make Qui-Gon hold tighter. 

Canine teeth severed his vocal cords, causing more blood and viscera to splatter across the Jedi master’s face. 

The last hints of life bubbled away with the warm, coppery blood oozing from Icaro’s neck. Qui-Gon sat back on his haunches and wiped the metallic taste from his stained mouth violently until his gums began to add on to the mess now dripping down his frail chest. 

Across the temple, Mace Windu watched as his former best friend rinsed the blood from his mouth and spit the excess blood onto the floor. 

His plan had succeeded and if he managed this right, Qui-Gon would spend the rest of his life in that room, dealing with traitors to the Order. After all, how else could the man pay for his crime? Corrupting a padawan… especially one so erotically powerful in the Force, well, that was unforgivable. 

No, better to let him wear himself down until he no more resembled a Jedi than Mace did a Mon Calamari. 

It would make for better entertainment in the long run. And when that finished? He’d go finish what his dear friend started. With Obi-Wan properly trained in the healing arts, Mace would never have to worry about losing a soldier. 

It was for the good of the temple and if that meant men had to die so others would live, so be it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whelp this is late but, like, it's worth it???? almost???
> 
> but real talk, this story will be picking up speed finally

The temple gardens were somehow more serene in person. The trees, some sort of firewood mixed with other foliage that was almost luminescent, provided a gentle barrier against the sea breeze rolling up the mountain. A small pool sparkled in the fading sunlight, filled with fantastic golden creatures that drifted lazily in coordinated dances. 

As he approached, the other inhabitants become more defined. 

The woman’s bundle was actually her child, clutched tightly to her chest. She was young, perhaps no older than the apprentices that tended to him earlier that day. Her child was small yet gurgled happily and pawed at her delicately braided hair. The apprentice she was conversing with, a human male with bronze-dark hair and gentle eyes, had a bag of supplies on his arm and offered her bits of food while they conversed. 

The old man had yet to move from his meditation; his eyes remained clenched shut as if opening them would upset the balance he so carefully established. He resembled the woman heavily; his hair, despite being the same dark shade as hers, was streaked heavily with white. While her dark skin was glowing and flawless, his showed age and told stories of a lifetime of harsh weather conditions. His meditation was well deserved and Obi-Wan felt a wave of respect slip past his shields. 

The two men, as he got closer, had their fingers loosely intertwined and were talking freely, their words soft and sweet. One nudged the other away from a stone in their path and pulled his companion closer to his chest. Clearly they were lost in conversation (and by extension, each other) and Obi-Wan felt a pang of longing deep within. He’d had something like that, once. It hurt to watch them, especially when his master was so far out of reach. Turning away, he scrubbed at his eyes to dispel the onslaught of tears that threatened to break free. 

Maybe coming out here was a bad idea. 

Maybe he should just go back to his room and wait this out.

Maybe-

“Obi-Wan? What’s wrong; did something happen with the blocks?” 

Turquoise hands fluttered nervously around his face as if they could gauge his heartbreak just from physical contact. Tendrils of the force prodded into his subconscious and he felt vague sensations along the blank spots in his memory. He felt a warming sensation deep within his skull and the Living Force overwhelmed his very being. 

“The barriers are holding; your stitches are holding…” 

He sighed and shrugged their hands off, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s fine; I’m fine.”

Liar. 

Their eyes narrowed. 

“Don’t try to hide what’s bothering you. You are at a temple for healing, after all. While you may not appreciate Master Zitun and I quite yet, you will learn that we only have your best interests at heart. It would be best for you to confide in us; we will not lead you astray.” 

Obi-Wan merely shrugged once more, his shoulders sagging. He was so tired; everything weighed down on him, heavier and heavier until he couldn’t breathe. 

Pas’uoth laid a light hand on his shoulder and the nausea only increased. 

“Let’s get you sitting down. Come with me, child.” 

They walked him to where the young woman was and Pas’uoth smiled at the trio. 

“Descaid, I have a visitor for Knight Bali and dear, sweet Acxa.” 

The apprentice, Descaid, returned the gesture and waved Obi-Wan over. 

“We’re happy to take him. Come, we were just about to discuss the Senate’s latest atrocity.”

He sat next to the woman; Knight Bali, Pas’uoth called her. She must’ve been from another temple because Obi-Wan had certainly never heard of her before. His robes billowed out around him as he settled in, and the child in Bali’s arms reached out to grasp the hem. The child’s small fingers tugged at the loose threads; his robes were hand-me-downs, far too big, and his most prized possessions. 

He didn’t make any move to save them. 

Instead, he turned to Descaid and tilted his head.

“I’m assuming you mean Chancellor Valorum latest trade deal? It’s certainly an ill-negotiated treaty, I’ll give you that.” 

Knight Bali nodded in agreement. 

“I served as a senator’s bodyguard until quite recently and let me just say, systems will always find a way to dodge tariffs, especially on something so essential as brandy. Only two things are certain: alcohol and death. And the Senate just banned alcohol.”

Descaid raised an eyebrow at his patient, his expression droll yet bored. 

“I hope you aren’t speaking about yourself, Knight Bali. Might I remind you what exactly brought you here?”

The child in her arms cooed in agreement, finally releasing Obi-Wan’s robe in favour of tugging at their mother’s hair. Bali smiled softly down at her baby and rocked the bundle gently. When she finally spoke again, her voice was soft, musing.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll soon forget… Acxa was the best thing that ever happened to me, no matter how unlikable the circumstances of her conception.”

A wave of love radiated from her, warm and infinite. It wafted through the gardens, relaxing everyone in the area. The healers all exchanged hopeful looks and the patients were soothed, the tension visibly flowing out of them. 

The man across the way finally opened his eyes and stood up. His eyes were blank and cold, yet he still managed to look kind and warm. He leaned heavily against the tree he’d been meditating under and called out to Descaid. 

“Apprentice Laddix, would you mind helping an old, blind man join his family?” 

The boy nodded instantly and rushed over to assist, settling the man over his shoulder and supporting his waist. 

“You’re doing better, Master Nafan. Soon you’ll be stronger than I am! How are we going to move you, then?”

Master Nafan rolled his eyes and patted Descaid’s broad shoulder. 

“Young man, I’m hardly on your level. Only sixteen sun cycles have passed and you already resemble a wall more than a man.” 

A nearby master laughed, her hand raised in an attempt to stifle the noise. Descaid, despite the woman’s best effort, heard anyways and glared at her. 

“I don’t appreciate the laughter, nuse’as. Isn’t it your job to raise apprentices impartially?” 

She threw her hands up in defeat, the humour still not quite gone from her eyes. 

“Oh, my dear boy. Has my laughter truly slighted you so? However shall I go on? My only apprentice, offended by his loving master’s amusement!” 

Master Nafan sighed and shook his head, eyes fixed on where Obi-Wan was sitting. 

“Some things never change, no matter how old you get. Masters and their apprentices will always argue and yet, they will always make up and be stronger for it.” 

Obi-Wan took one look back at the pair, seeing that Descaid had already forgiven the woman and their unity now sang in the Force. 

Perhaps he had a point. 

Descaid returned to the group and waited for Master Nafan to settle in beside Obi-Wan. His task complete, the apprentice turned to his little group. 

“Master Kol and I apologise for disrupting the peace.”

He didn’t look at all sorry. Master Kol still smiled deviously and Descaid’s playfully perturbed expression had yet to fall. 

It made his chest ache, deep within, yet Obi-Wan merely shrugged. 

“It’s not a problem. You two looked like you were having fun.” 

“Besides, young man, it’s healthy to play like that with your master. It increases productivity!”

Master Nafan added, shooting the two a wink. Descaid rolled his eyes once more.

“Oh please, master. It’s hardly like that, and you know it.” 

Bali smiled sweetly at him.

“Descaid, you know he’s only kidding. It’s his way of telling you to bond with your master now, over happy memories, while you still have the chance.” 

And wasn’t that food for thought? 

Obi-Wan suddenly felt his stomach drop and he whipped his head around, desperately searching for something… or rather, someone. Nafan and Bali had a point; what would he do now that his master was gone? Surely they’d been close; they must’ve been…

There’s no way they weren’t. It wouldn’t make sense. If they weren’t close, then surely Obi-Wan would be relieved to be separated. Surely his master would have said good-bye, glad to be rid of the burden a padawan- no, apprentice presented. Surely the decision would have been mutual and not made for him in the dead of night. 

Surely…

He glanced around the circle, filled to the brim with loving people, perfectly willing to accept him without even knowing him. 

If they weren’t close, then why did it hurt so much?

He stood stiffly, ignoring the startled cries from his new friends and made a beeline for where Pas’uoth and Master Xzat sat together. 

The pair took up the bench by the entrance, Pas’uoth cradled gently on their master’s lap, the two whispering softly back and forth in a smooth, foreign tongue. Nearby, the two males from further in the gardens had settled on the grass to continue their discussion under the watchful eyes of the senior healers. Despite how engrossed they were with each other, both master and apprentice focused their whole attention on Obi-Wan, never once moving from their seats. 

“Obi-Wan? Is something the matter?” 

Xzat was calm, his voice masking his concern easily. Unfortunately, Pas’uoth had no such luck. They shot forward from where they’d been lounging in Xzat’s lap and beckoned for the teen to approach. 

“Did something tear? Oh, you should have told me it hurt!” 

He shook his head slowly and stepped forward, head held high. 

“Master Zitun, Senior Apprentice Pas’outh…”

He knelt at their feet, eyes sincere and voice more confident than it’d been since arriving earlier that morning. 

“I would be honoured to train under you both as the Force has determined.”


	7. Chapter 7

“No, no, no, Obi-Wan! It comes from the chest, not the throat. Try it again.” 

 

He groaned softly, his hands knotting themselves in his mop of copper-blond hair. The words floating from the holocron taunted him, a deadpan, computerised voice repeating phrases over and over. Obi-Wan had been training with Master Zitun and Pas’uoth for almost four months now, and his grasp of the native language was still no better than when he first arrived. 

 

Pas’uoth always reassured him that it was nothing to be concerned about, but he knew better. Communication was vital in healing and if Obi-Wan couldn’t converse with the locals, then how could they expect him to treat beings from other systems? His patients wouldn’t understand him and then they’d get sicker and then-

 

“Obi-Wan, darling…” 

 

Pas’uoth touched his shoulder gently, their eyes soft and concerned. He relaxed and cocked his head quizzically.

 

“Yes? Was I doing- oh, I was doing it again, wasn’t I?”

 

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and felt his shoulders deflate. 

 

“That makes 12 times this month. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this-”

 

“Hush, child. In all my years in this temple, I have only seen one other with the same potential as you. And that being is now the one you and I call master.” 

 

The boy met their eyes, finally, and slowly nodded. 

 

“I guess you’ve got a point…”

 

“Exactly! Now, let’s see if we can’t finish your lesson.” 

 

The holocron resumed it’s instruction, moving on to common temple vernacular. 

 

“ Temple; se'anze'a.”

 

Obi-Wan struggled through the word, each time stressing different parts, until the database was satisfied with his pronunciation. For a common language, it certainly was grating to learn. 

 

“Jedi; je'asuh.” 

 

“Je’suah?” 

 

The machine flashed; something wasn’t right. Sighing heavily, Obi-Wan began the process anew; his voice becoming hoarse and worn the longer he struggled. No matter how many times he failed at learning Apani, he’d fucking keep at it until his vocal chords gave out or he mastered the language. 

 

Sometime during his session, Xzat joined his two pupils. He sat just beside the door, watching the two interact with a great deal of pride. They were coming along so nicely; it was hard to believe that just months prior, Obi-Wan was in critical condition in their treatment wing, half dead from exhaustion. And to think, the boy was now on his way to becoming a fantastic healer. Perhaps he’d even surpass Xzat. 

 

Xzat had tried asking the Force that, once. However, the only answer he got was that there are some things hidden from even the best Jedi Masters. That didn’t stop him from worrying, though. As a teacher, he always feared not preparing his students for the real challenges they’d face after his unavoidable death. What if this was the group he failed? Would they curse his name day after day, and reject his teachings, damning his memory to oblivion? 

 

Would he blame them? 

 

Pas’uoth, bless their unwavering devotion and inescapable love, tried their best to convince him that what he taught was good and worthwhile. For a bit, he almost believed them. He had to constantly remind himself that Pas’uoth was blinded by their intimacy and he loved them too much to tear down the facade. 

 

And then came this spitfire of an apprentice he now struggled to understand. Obi-Wan respected him, sure, but any effort he made to develop a closer relationship with the boy was rejected. Almost as if his apprentice feared being hurt again, like he’d been when cruely removed from his last master’s care. 

 

That didn’t make it any less brutal. And yet… he could hardly blame the boy for it. So for now, Xzat would content himself with watching Pas’uoth mother Obi-Wan, caring for him enough for them both. Yes, that was enough. As long as the boy felt welcome and remained as far away from Qui-Gon Jinn as possible, he’d have no problems with staying in the shadows. 

 

In any case, he’d have to end this lesson soon. He’d been around both apprentices enough by now to recognise when they were exhausted. Pulling himself to his feet, Xzat announced his presence by placing a hand on Pas’uoth’s shoulder. 

 

“I think,” He rumbled softly, “that Obi-Wan has had quite enough with his lessons today, sahe'as.” 

 

Pas’uoth melted under his touch and straightened, their focus broken. 

 

“I suppose you’re right, master. Obi-Wan, you’re making excellent progress. I’m so very proud of you.” 

 

The boy blinked once, twice, before offering a sheepish smile in return. 

 

“Thank you for teaching me, Pas’uoth. Sorry I keep butchering it.” 

 

Xzat saw this as a moment to further bond with his second apprentice. 

 

“Nonsense, my boy. You should have heard Pas’uoth struggling with Basic. Now  _ that  _ was truly a butchered job.” 

 

His beloved rolled their eyes yet had a smirk plastered to their face. 

 

“Oh please, master. Don’t make him suffer! Obi-Wan has been through enough today without hearing me trying to pronounce diplomatic terms for five hours.” 

 

However, the idea was already placed in the open. Obi-Wan eyed Pas’uoth with curiosity and nudged them gently.

 

“Now I’ve got to hear it.” 

 

Pas’uoth shook their head in amusement. 

 

“Maybe some other day. Today, however, we have some patients to visit.” 

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes brightened and he tugged on their robes in excitement.

 

“Are we going to the desert village this time?”

 

“No, not this time, dear one. There’s a hospital to the south that has requested a healer’s presence.” They paused for a moment, as if choosing their next words carefully. “They’ve asked for you to be fluent in Apani, Obi-Wan.” 

__

The boy’s eyes clouded in confusion and fear, and Xzat felt a pang of sympathy. It wasn’t easy picking up a new language, especially one as complex as Apani. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too difficult of a task. 

 

“But Pas’uoth, how can they expect so much in so little time?” 

 

His tone was calm, revealing none of the inner turmoil present in his eyes. Obi-Wan a diplomat, and a shrewd one at that. He’d rather puzzle out the logistics before plunging into the situation. And it wasn’t as if Pas’uoth hadn’t asked their fair share of questions. They sighed and beckoned their fellow apprentice towards them. 

 

“This particular disease only affects children. Unfortunately, none of these children understand Basic, as they haven’t had a need for it. We… we have an obligation as healers, similar to that of a diplomat. In order to help, we must greet our patients on terms they feel comfortable with.” 

 

Xzat cleared his throat to interrupt. 

 

“Not to mention that these poor children are probably scared beyond belief. We must take care to avoid upsetting them. That could interfere in our work.”

 

Obi-Wan nodded and picked up the holocron. His green-grey eyes flashed with determination and the boy picked up his datapad once more. The lesson resumed, each word being carefully sounded out and recorded into the pad. Both Pas’uoth and Xzat regarded him carefully before meeting each other’s eyes, an agreement reached without words. 

 

He was going to make a great healer. 

 

__

 

It was dusk before Obi-Wan showed any signs of stopping. The three suns had long since set and the unforgiving humidity set in, prompting the boy to move into the more closed off areas of the temple. He sat in his assigned room, still on the patient’s wing, and furiously scribbled notes down from his datapad to a reed-bound journal. Around him, he could hear the others settling in for the night. 

 

Knight Bali and Axca were directly across from his room and the sounds of lullabies floated out of the doorway. 

 

Master Nafan said goodbye to Descaid before his room three doors down went dark. 

 

The two male knights made no sound as they closed off their joint rooms using privacy curtains. 

 

Before long, the only light in the hall was his datapad. 

 

Obi-Wan did not stop for another three hours. 

 

Around midnight, he carefully snuck out of the wing and out to the gardens below. They were tranquil despite the wet, night air and Obi-Wan found himself meditating beneath a sturdy elder tree. 

 

The tree was obviously transplanted and reminded him of the temple gardens back home.  _ Home.  _ Now there was a concept that hadn’t crossed his mind in months. He’d been so caught up in his training here and recovering from his arrival that he’d almost forgotten about those he left behind. Did they miss him at all? 

 

Did he miss them? 

__

Perhaps, on some level, yes, he did. However, he had such difficulty placing names and faces of those he could no longer see that it scarcely mattered if he missed them. In all except spirit, he was no longer one of them; he could no longer claim them as home. 

 

Resigning himself to this fact was remarkably freeing. His mind cleared and somewhere, he felt an actual tie be severed. After it’s departure, it was as if he were seeing with new eyes. His body was no longer haunted by an invisible presence, and he could finally breathe freely. 

 

Somewhere across the galaxy, secluded amongst the skyscrapers of Coruscant, deep within the living quarters of the Jedi Temple, Qui-Gon Jinn screamed in agony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick guide to Apani (all of these specific words will be important to the plot in some way, shape, or form  
> Master- nuse'as  
> companion- zanzuruhar  
> lover- sahe'as  
> patient- zusuhe'ars  
> apprentice- uzze'arsuhze'a  
> heal- e'aus  
> forgive- asfuhe'a  
> Force- asze'a  
> Jedi- je'asuh  
> Temple- se'anze'a


End file.
